With Love, Cupid
by Fatalyst
Summary: Just another night in the Moritaka household.
1. Lovebirds

**DISCLAIMER:**  
The following content is the intellectual property of the  
Tsugumi Ohba and Takeshi Obata as well as any  
participating organizations that own various  
designs and concepts that will be featured. The  
Author in no way claims to be a part owner of any of  
the characters that will be portrayed, and writes with  
the full authorization of the ffnet website.

**WARNING:  
**The following content is rated M for Mature, and may  
contain graphical descriptions of mature scenarios  
that viewers may not find suitable. This is a work of  
fiction: Any and all similarities to real life situations is  
purely coincidental.

* * *

_~With Love, Cupid~_

* * *

"Mashiro..."

The way she said his name so freely never failed to make him nervous. He opened his eyes and combed through the hazy grains of the plastered white ceiling he already knew was above him. They were holding hands; she lay on one side forming a circle, the knot cushioned over Mashiro's stomach. His right shoulder stretched out to pillow her head. It was uncomfortable for him, but he was happy with it. The sound of cicadas reverberated softly through the windowpane.

He should say something, but he couldn't. So he turned his head and looked into her open eyes, smiling a little, slightly nervous.

"...I'm horny..."

She felt bad about being so open. He could see it in her boldness, feel it in the quivering of her fingers in his palm. But he liked that part of her too, and she knew it. So she didn't hold back. Because they both liked it that way.

Even so, the visible surprise in his eyes made her shrink back, just a little. They were quiet for a little while, looking one another up and down.

Then Mashiro loosened his grip on her hand. She rose up and over him instinctively. A gasp of shock escaped him, but she plugged this opening with her lips. His knee slid up and his grip tightend again, his free arm laying stiffly on the bed where her head had been. To her embarassment she saw that her hair was rumpled in the shape of his arm.

"This time, let me... uhm..." she stared at his chest because she could not meet his eyes. Biting her lip, she chided herself for being so reluctant.  
There was nothing about his face that bespoke disapproval. Rather, Mashiro looked very serene, though his body trembled beneath hers. It was now or never, she thought to herself. Oh well...

Oh well... she thought, as she fleshed away her nightgown, spreading her knees over the bed about his ribs. She flexed to kiss him, letting her breasts dangle recklessly about his chin. His stubbled goatee transmitted a wild impulse through her. She giggled uncontrollably.

When she rose again, Mashiro palmed her body, felt his way around her curves in the dark room. "That was really sexy," he told her.

"What...?" she moaned, low, sliding back underneath the blanket, sweeping her hands along his chest, feeling the hard mound pass between hers, equally engorged. She would have to wash his pajamas in the morning, and knew she would be exaggeratedly shy about doing so. But right now was her moment, and she siezed it tightly. Mashiro's head rolled backwards, his back twitching.

She swallowed him with her smile. Then, his back arched, his hip heaving. Prepared, she felt him press easily, comfortably, back into the entrance of her throat. She looked up at him, the light from the street lamps outside enough to illuminate her face.

"So this is why," Mashiro grunted, fighting to restrain his hands. She blinked, not stopping, but still thinking. Then she turned red and looked away, sweeping her head more vigorously. "Just this, baby," he said, inhaling sharply and running his fingers through her smooth sheen hair.

She groaned, loudly, excessively, drowning out her embarassment in the moment. For some reason, the idea of his hands, gripping and tugging her hair, and the sensation of a hard prodding in her neck, excited her. The friction between them heated her. Her groans became more and more earnest. It was happening again... her transformation. Mashiro saw it too. Then he couldn't see anything, because he closed his eyes.

"Hmmn...?"

As it came out, she was ready. She didn't need to do anything as it slid casually down. With each surge, every twitch, every trembling thrust, came a powerfully new sensation of dominance, and a delightful tickling sensation as each bead rolled along. She considered biting a little, just to make fun of him.

Mashiro did not wither at all. Rather, he too changed. His shoulders fell out of their sockets a little, his body loosening, his movements becoming more relaxed. It was here, she thought, joy and fear coursing through her; Mashiro's secret side, her secret pleasure.

He lay there, waiting, smiling tauntingly. She squeezed him between her lips, pulling out what was left. Down again, squeeze and pull. That left the shaft to clean, which she tended to vicariously. Their fingers met, sparks traversing the minute gaps formed before and after contact. She pulled Mashiro up, positioning him to sit up against the headboard, all the while dutifully performing her task.

"You're being awfully kinky today," he told her.

"That's because..." She was already blushing, and so rather than being more surprised, the result was merely a prolonging of her current state of mind. "Up until now, Mashiro, you-" She felt it twitch and quickly drew out a little bit more. "-always took the lead."

Then, looking up at him with the eyes of a naughty child who didn't at all mean the apology that she was about to give, she licked her lips and kissed him. "I think little whitey deserves a break," she cooed, nibbling his neck. Reaching below herself she pulled him into position.

It was completely natural, what happened next. They had become so used to the routine that, despite conservative misgivings, they allowed their bodies to share in their mutual honesty. A gratifying sigh escaped them both. She winced and ground her hips into his lap. "M-Mashiro...!"

She wrapped her arms around him, grunting with each heave. Already Mashiro was panting. "Baby," he murmured, "Go ahead. It's okay."

"But you like it when we face each other," she responded, pouting, heaving all the harder for it. "This time I'll be-"

"Wait...! I'm going to-!" he sounded desperate.

She didn't think she would be able to become more embarassed than she had been earlier, but the temperature in her face rose just the same. A deep, carnal hunger rose up out of her. Suddenly the stimulation intensified.

"Wait! You're tightening up!"

"No!" she cried, rising up and plunging again. "Do it! Hold me tightly while you do it!"

He obeyed, taking her hips with his idle hands and taking over. His pace was faster, more efficient. She felt his grip tighten almost violently, and knew she would have a bruise in the morning. But as she rose up to see his face, and felt him rock beneath her, felt the world shake, she was overwhelmed with such bliss that she echoed his explosion.

"AZUKI!"

It was worthwhile to capture this moment forever in her mind; that look of longing for something he already had right in front of him, the urgency with which she felt he needed it. She couldn't tell what he was thinking anymore, and she knew that it was probably because he couldn't tell what he was thinking either.

"I love you, Azuki," he whispered, kissing her nape affectionately.

"Oh..." Still in orgasm, Azuki Miho surrendered, offered no resistance as he stood up on the bed, carrying her, moving her, thrusting into her. With each thrust he made, with each tug at her hips, she spasmed uncontrollably, her indistinct, formless cries filling the room.

"Mmm... Mha...! MMM...!"

She could hear him breathing. She moaned louder. "Mmmaaa-!"

Leaning on just one hand she stroked her clitoris furiously, biting her lip and crying out in a long high-pitched song.

"Mmmaaaashhhhiiiioo...~! Y-yoooouuuu... Nngh! Mmmhaaa!"

His hands took her breasts. In harmony they pressed into one another. He ran his tongue all along her back. Azuki came, then. It didn't matter anymore. It felt good. It felt so good. More. More...

"M-Moar..." she sang. "Mashiro~! Mooaar~! Haaaah~! Yes!"

"Azuki! You're so sexy!" he told her, over and over. "Damn, you're so sexy! Sing for me!"

And she sang, dropping at his urging, curling her ankle over his shoulder as they shifted.

"More! Mashiro, I love~! HAAAANGGH!" He tried to kiss her. She couldn't reciprocate. It didn't matter. They held hands and cried together.


	2. Singsong

**DISCLAIMER:**  
The following content is the intellectual property of the  
Tsugumi Ohba and Takeshi Obata as well as any  
participating organizations that own various  
designs and concepts that will be featured. The  
Author in no way claims to be a part owner of any of  
the characters that will be portrayed, and writes with  
the full authorization of the ffnet website.

**WARNING:  
**The following content is rated M for Mature, and may  
contain graphical descriptions of mature scenarios  
that viewers may not find suitable. This is a work of  
fiction: Any and all similarities to real life situations is  
purely coincidental.

* * *

_~No Regrets, Devil~_

* * *

"You jerk," Azuki mumbled feebly, twirling her finger around Mashiro's abdomen. "I was supposed to make you feel good."

He took her hand and played with the ring on her finger. "You used this to get off earlier," he told her. She was about to apologize for it, when he continued. "That was hot."

"Mashiro...! Don't ignore me," she pushed him playfully.

"Will you marry me, Azuki?" he said, still ignoring her. "Ow!"

She bit his chin. "Yes, Mashiro, I'll marry you. Again. For the eighty-sixth time." Then, closing her eyes and nuzzling up against his chest she sang a tune from their anime, though the words were different. "Nineteen times a day~ I'd let you take away~"

"You've been counting?" he asked, amused. She kept singing. He closed his eyes, feeling sleepy, wondering that she wasn't tired after all that. He had a meeting in four hours, and hadn't even slept one in the last three. But then, that was something else. "When I see you feeling good, for some reason it makes me feel good too," he told her.

"Oh..." she looked up into his eyes, understanding. "Me too..."

He smiled, cupping her ass in his hand, "But you know, that was really sexy. The way you sing my name. You really sing it."

She kissed him and pulled his hand away. "You're just a pervert," she said, but she was smiling. "Maaaashirooooooo~!" Azuki sang, rising up underneath the blanket. "I'm still hooooooooooooorny~ "

* * *

**Author's Note:** Now, now, I know there are other MAzukiro fans out there, and I'm apalled at the lack of canon fiction for this series, so I decided to write a sweet, normal-ish story.

When I wrote this I came up with a lot of ideas that I couldn't fit in to this one shot. Azuki calls Mashiro's funstick (lolol) "little whitey" or "shiro-kun" which is just a cheap nickname for Ma"shiro." For those of you who don't already know "-kun" is a suffix that denotes a younger boy or a boy one is closer to. If you still have no idea what I'm talking about GGRKS. ;)

Also, when Mashiro says "So this is what is was for" or something like that, and Azuki gets really embarassed (like one of many instances, I abuse blushing) he's talking about a subplot I couldn't fit in in which we find out that Azuki's been reading and watching erotic things so she can learn how to give a good blowjob, and she's been keeping it a secret from Mashiro, but he found out.

Also, I tried to play around with it, but towards the end of the first segment Azuki's sentences were supposed to end with hearts.

I was trying to portray the honesty and mutual understanding that Mashiro always claims to share with Azuki. This takes place an unspecified time after we assume that Mashiro and Azuki get their manga, get married, and fuck god knows how many times. XD


End file.
